


another lifetime perhaps

by karsynn_o



Category: Othello - Shakespeare
Genre: F/M, No Plot/Plotless, Soft iago, at least in this universe, but is otherwise gentle, hc that he's into rough sex, shut up let me have this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 11:35:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18690679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karsynn_o/pseuds/karsynn_o
Summary: modernish AU setting with a little soft Emilia/Iago





	another lifetime perhaps

Startled awake, though eyes not yet open, Emilia felt the weight and warmth of an embrace, and she remembered she had curled herself up in the blankets hours ago, and cried herself to sleep. And now, again, her tears trailed from her eyes as muffled sobs escaped her.

And when she tried to move, to turn over and out from the covers, she found she couldn't.

Something soft and warm brushed over her nose, and she heard a whisper, "Hush, now, my darling," and oh, his breath was hot against her frozen cheeks and she shivered, trembled, remembering. She gasped and sobbed, knowing now it was Iago who held her and not a comfort of her own making. 

Pressed against him, cocooned in his arms, her hand crawled up his chest to settle on his collar in a longing, desperate grip.

A kiss he placed upon her head as his fingers weaved through her hair with thorough care. "Hushh," he breathed, and lay soft kisses over her forehead, her eyes, her nose. "I am here." He tightened his hold, arms ensnaring her by the shoulders and waist, and she moved her legs to entwine her feet with his ankles.

Was it a dream? She dared not open her eyes lest it was, though she ached to look up at him.

She pressed her face into his neck and breathed in his familiar scent of leather and gunsmoke, and an unmistakable trace of guilt.

Perhaps that guilt was what she prescribed to his tortured, suffering soul, and perhaps he could not name it for himself. But whatever it was, it held them together steadfast. Neither could make sense of the world without the other.

Her crying settled into quiet gasps and her trembling eased. She felt the back of his fingers wipe the tears from her face. Felt the tip of his nose move against hers but she still would not look at him. What if he disappeared and left her shaking in the cold and lonely dark?

His hand went over her eyes and she tilted her head up to find his chin and stopped there, dangerously close to his bottom lip, but she didn't kiss him.

He moved, barely, and she felt the form of his mouth search for hers. Reminiscent, she thought, to the way she seemed to always be searching for him in the dark, with arms outstretched.

She held her breath.

And he kissed her softly, and withdrew as she leaned into him. Left her with a phantom of affection. A memory half lived, dead before it could bloom.

Her hand slid up to touch his face as he returned his to her waist. She stroked his jaw with her thumb and dared not ask for more. It was enough that he held her.  
She became aware of the drumming in his chest, of his heart beating against her nestled form, and her tears threatened to flow again.

Old memories still haunted her, but she'd never tell.

"Go back to sleep," he whispered into her hair.

Emilia nodded but, truth be told, she was no longer tired and didn't want to miss a moment of their blissful harmony.


End file.
